Silence
by bexerinne
Summary: "Three years ago, I understood the passage of time. I welcomed it. Then, time stood still. We are where we were. We remain, motionless, unable to move on... In that moment, I never considered it would be the last. I never expected three years to go by as they have. Without her." Is there anything left when the person that means the most to you disappears? Does hope exist?


**Disclaimer: Unfortunately, the characters aren't mine. :( Wouldn't that be nice though.**

**Silence**

When hope vanishes, it takes everything along. With the last drop of hope, all sense of future is vanquished. Seemingly, there is nothing without hope, only an abyss as great as life itself and as far as the mind can stretch.

When hope vanishes, only absence itself is left, and in absence silence is found. This silence finds its very own cruelty. This silence cuts like a knife leaving in its wake a unique pain and wounds that will never heal in entirety. It remains without mercy, without even the mercy of an end. It gives the blessing, the curse, of continuity.

And, hope favors no one.

_Three years. Three years ago life was different. Altogether, life held something that since then has been lost. Stolen. But never forgotten. Every detail that holds any significance is changed. Three years ago, and the three years before that, I learned more than every year before. I gained an understanding I never thought to have. I gained this knowledge that has been so deeply ingrained in my persona that it is evident in every step I take, every breath I breathe. However, not only did I receive this understanding, but the price as well. And, the price, what understanding took, I would never have given willingly._

_ I had what mattered. More. But, the more one has to name, the more one has to lose. I have lost. I have been losing for three years. We all have._

_ Three years ago, I knew of love, of hope, and of happiness. Three years ago, I understood the passage of time. I welcomed it. Then, time stood still. We are where we were. We remain, motionless, unable to move on. _

_ There was a moment, those years ago, that I regret. There was a moment that had I known what was to come, I would have changed. I didn't though. I didn't know. In that moment, I never considered it would be the last. I never expected three years to go by as they have. Without her. I never expected three days, let alone three years. Not seeing her face, not hearing her voice, not feeling her presence, nothing._

_ But, here it is: three years._

_ Time will continue. Life will go on._

_ And, I will wait._

_ I will keep looking around corners and underneath rocks._

_ Because all questions have answers._

_ Even questions three years old._

She didn't know where those words had come from. Staring at them, they seemed foreign, like nothing she, Maura, would ever say, ever think. But, there they were in her writing, in her voice. They were hers: her words, her thoughts, and her loss. More than that, they were her life. This was what life had become for her. It was unlike anything she had ever imagined.

And so, she sat speech in hand. This one would be no different, no different than any of the others. There were five, five pages of her voice that was never spoken. Her words were known to one but her, and even that in time, would be forgotten. Given time, it all would; but until then, she was frozen remembering. There was nothing she could do but remember.

Years had passed with her searching – doing nothing else. Three years of never blinking, never looking away. But things were different now, changed. Maura would keep looking – she knew nothing else. She couldn't stop. But the hope of finding anything was gone, dead, along with hope of any other kind. There was nothing left.

Maura set the paper among the others, and closed the box that held them. Her fingers lingered on the closed lid, uncertainty lacing her thoughts. Maybe she shouldn't shut it away so soon; maybe she should give it a chance. It could work. It could help. There was always something that could be done. Someone somewhere knows something. Even if they're unaware of the knowledge they contain. Hope didn't have to be gone. There was always possibility.

It got the box open, that hope, and hope met a repeating phrase that spoke for reality. Three years. Three years. Three years. The box fell closed once more, and closed it remained. There was nothing to be done, nothing _any_one any_where_ could do. There never would be. There was no hope; there never would be. It was done, over.

The room blurred before her, and silent tears traced familiar paths down her cheeks. Maura felt herself split, and this painful, hopeless feeling was everything. The emptiness that began years before grew until it commanded every piece of her being. It smothered any, and everything, that wasn't in accordance; it spared nothing. It left her alone, a place she had come to know well. But as well as she had come to know it, she'd never found a way to leave it behind. Maura had never found a way to be rid of it even as it took over, even as it destroyed the person she had been. She watched as a silent observer, conscious of what it was doing, understanding it wouldn't end. It would continue until the end.

But the end wasn't coming soon enough.

Maura let her head fall into her hands resting a moment. Her fingers ran their way through her hair and dropped into her lap where they nervously traveled up and down the length of her thighs. She shook her head, and a sob broke through her lips. A hand flew up to cover them, to quiet herself, as more came before returning to trace the same path along her thighs. Her shoulders continued to shake, but silence took over once again. She couldn't do this. She could live like this. She couldn't continue. There was nothing. Just nothing. There was no light at the end of the tunnel. There were no answers.

Nothing would change: Maura would never read those words. The only light they would see was on the anniversary, but that light was cast in and among shadows.

"Jane…. Oh god, Jane…," she whispered. It was the only day she could say her name.

And, time would continue to stand still.

* * *

**So? Thoughts?**


End file.
